


A Ruff Day Comes to an End

by To_Shiki



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Caring Students, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Fanart, Life after voltron, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiro has a ruff day, The Paladins are Garrison Professors, loosely based on true story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 14:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13390143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/To_Shiki/pseuds/To_Shiki
Summary: Shiro loves his students.  He really does.  It's not their fault it happened.





	A Ruff Day Comes to an End

Shiro loves his students.  He does.  Really.  And they love him, surely.  As much as any student can love an Alien Military History professor.

Half of them have a mix of hero worship/crush on him.  The Garrison made him into a legend.  His eyeliner has others jealous.  The fact that he can physically move a student, _desk and all_ , easily has the class swooning and/or wanting to hit the gym.  Mostly they loved the fact that his service dog tolerates their doting attention when they should be paying attention to his lectures.  He’s pretty sure they have a betting pool going on to see who can break his dog first.

Charlie, his cream colored Great Pyrenees service dog was one of five service animals gifted to the Paladins of Voltron when they had returned to Earth years ago.  Through a lot of politics and meetings and one very memorable blitz attack by Lotor, the Earth’s leaders finally believed them and joined forces.  Zarkon, Lotor, and any others foolish enough to follow in their footsteps were quickly and thoroughly dealt with by the ever-growing resistance.

Back to his students.

His wonderfully smart, inquisitive, _active_ students.

It wasn’t their fault.  Not really.  They all know about the Paladins.  They all know that with war, or any major trauma in life, comes PTSD.  They’re Juniors and took a course on it in Freshmen year.  They _know_.

It was an accident.

The didn’t stop Shiro’s reaction.

It had happened during a practice exam.  They could have their thick history books and notes on their desk to use.  The exams the Garrison created were tricky and wordy, he wanted his students to know exactly what they were getting into.  The room was quiet save for the grumbling of stomachs and sniffling noses.  Shiro was grinning to himself as he graded their short essays from last week’s class.

Just because it’s not in the syllabus doesn’t mean he can’t give them an extra point or two for creativity.  He was about to mark their paper when-

**_SLAM!_ **

**_BANG!_ **

-his back’s screaming at him and Charlie’s doing his best to lick all the sweat and tears off his face.

It takes Shiro a moment to get his bearings.  His lungs ache as he works to slow down his breathing.  He buries both hands in Charlie’s thick fur, spreading his legs enough so the dog can crawl further in.  Warm fur, thick scent of _dog_ , the sun setting against the white board behind his desk.

His desk.

Why is he…?

“Professor Shiro?”

Over Charlie’s back Shiro can see at least a dozen of his students, worry and concern aging their faces before they’ve even stepped foot onto a battleground. 

“Professor?  Are you okay now?” another student whispers to him.

“Of _course he’s not okay_ , you moron!” a third hisses back.  He can’t help the flinch as someone’s smacked.

“None…none of that,” Shiro finally manages to get out.  He had to clear his throat, desert-dry from his panicked breathing.  “There’s no hitting in my class.”

All students give a sigh of relief at his voice.  One mumbles, “yes, Sir,” as another hands over an unopened bottle of water from their backpack.  His hands are shaking too much, grip too weak to open it himself.  Someone else cracks it open as a straw appears.

After the closest student holds it steady so he can wet his throat, he pushes it away to ask, “What happened?”

That was a mistake.  A dozen voices start explaining, each trying to talk over the other.  Unashamed, Shiro buries his face back in Charlie’s neck.  Charlie, having enough, gives off a warning bark.  Once everyone quiets down, he turns his head towards one of the closest students and gives a soft _woof_.

Taking the hint, she starts explaining. 

“It was an accident, Sir.  Cadet Rogers was in a hurry to be the first to turn in their exam.  He closed his book really fast, which caused it to fall off his desk.  Next thing we knew you were under the desk and unresponsive.”

“ _I’m **so** sorry, Sir!”_   Rogers sounds like he’s been on the verge of tears for hours.

“We tried getting ahold of one of the other Pala-Profs, but they’re all away or didn’t answer,” another student picks up the story.  Despite himself, Shiro can’t help the watery chuckle at the nickname the cadets call him and his teammates.  “Since this is one of the later classes, and not many staff are around this wing, we decided to keep you and Charlie company until someone _did_ decide to show up.”

Lifting his head, he asks, “Did you try using my cell?”

“We would have, Sir, but you’re sitting on it.”

“Oh…”

“And it’s kinda a tight fit down there with you and Charlie.”  A smattering of giggles helps ease his shoulders.  His back’s still screaming at him from being hunched over for so long…

“How long?”  He unclenches his fingers from Charlie’s fur and begins combing through the thick fur, calming himself down in anticipation of the answer.

“A little less than two hours.  If you didn’t come around after the two-hour mark we were going to call Emergency.”

“Thank you, for not calling.  I’d rather not deal with unfamiliar faces right now.”

 _“He likes our faces,”_ one of the girls titter.  That’s definitely Cadet Williams.  She’s made it quite clear she like likes him.

“Yeah, likes them more than the Emergency staff’s faces,” another girl shots her down.

The humor helps, though.  Shiro’s chuckling more now, body slowly relaxing from it’s adrenaline rush.  The other students join him, some going as far as petting Charlie’s flank.  He tolerates it, seeing as how his focus is on Shiro and Shiro’s scent easing from _panicgetoutrun_ to _reliefcalmsafe_.

A commotion outside the classroom has him tensing up again.  Something’s running hard and loud and hollering.  Half of the students gathered around his desk quickly jump to their feet and head to the closed door.   The other half close off the opening the others left behind.  Surrounded on all sides, desk to his back and sides, students in front of him, and Charlie crowding against him, Shiro felt _safe_.

“Professor Hunk!”

Shiro practically _melts_ when Hunk’s soothing voice ushers his students out of the way.  He lets everything slide to the wayside and let’s Hunk take control.  He knows what to do.

~*~

Shiro wakes up to sunlight streaming in through his bedroom windows.  A light blanket tucked in to keep the night chill away.  Charlie’s his breathing pillow, keeping nightmares nothing more than fragments and whispers.

A dull headache pulses in time with his heartbeat, reminding him about the stress of yesterday.  He needs to move, to stretch and eat something to help get back to normal.

He shifts, wiggling around in the warm cocoon he’s made during the night.  Charlie’s tail starts _flumping_ on the bedcovers behind him.  Looking up, Shiro can see Charlie staring at him.

“Thanks, buddy.”

Before Shiro can reach up to scratch behind an ear, Charlie leans down and gives a quick lick to Shiro’s nose.  Shiro’s laughing before he knows it, Charlie giving a little smile of his own at his human’s happiness.

Shiro loves his students.  He really does.  But now he appreciates them even more.

And so does Charlie.

 

**Author's Note:**

> True story: In high school, there was a teacher (not mine) who has PTSD and a student accidentally knocked their math book off their desk. The sound had the teacher under his desk for hours as he had, thankfully, nonviolent flashbacks.


End file.
